Mist Upon the Eyes
by Within Lives Darkness
Summary: What if hobbits had more up their sleeves than anyone realized? Or: In Which Bilbo Baggins Is Secretly An Assassin. [slash, AU, mostly movie-verse, rating may change, currently not beta-ed, on hiatus/editing].
1. Prologue

**Mist Upon the Eyes**

 **Prologue**

When you think of a hobbit, as rare as that in itself is, what usually comes to mind? One would expect a plump, short, and very large-and-hairy-footed creature to appear in your thoughts.

That's _exactly_ what they want you to think. That's what you _let_ them trick you into believing. To see past that facade, you need to see past the endless handkerchiefs and soft, beardless bodies. However, I'm certain that more than half of you haven't even heard of the buggers before now.

 _No, no, no._

In reality, hobbits are much more dangerous little wretches than you or I or anyone else realize. They are one of the deadliest things you could most unfortunately encounter in your lifetime, more deadly than even poisonous snakes or spiders. In fact, hobbits are on the level of danger that comes right beneath a dragon.

Of course, you won't believe me if I tell you that without any proof, will you? Why should you? Hobbits supposedly cherish their doilies like Yavanna herself is contained within them, and they gossip all day, eat seven meals, garden for petty contests, and celebrate every chance they get.

These innocent, child-like faces deceive most everyone.

But why do you think hobbits need those seven meals a day, eh? To regain energy, of course - but's not like they spend so much every day on gossiping. How do you suppose they have all those resources? Money, certainly - but in order to have money, you need to have a job. You don't just pull out gold from your nostrils or eardrums, as some miserable fools are prone to think.

The hobbits' jobs are more than your usual, run-of-the-mill work. They train straight from adolescence to be the best they can at it. You won't see them coming even if they nip you right on the nose and hammer your dumb arse.

But then came the day when hobbits became even more dangerous than dragons, much to everyone's shock. That is, everyone but a certain wizard's.

It started when a large company of dwarves invaded poor Mister Bilbo Baggins' hobbit-hole.

And it all escalated straight from there...

 ***peeks out from behind a rock***

 **So... how was it?**

 **This is my first contribution to the amazing Hobbit community that I've been stalking for months (sorry, not sorry), and this is first story I've written in quite a while. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it, and please if you did, send me a review down below! Who knows... maybe the first chapter could come a little faster. *wink, wink, nudge, nudge***

 **Now onto a little bit about myself and my new story:**

 **I have no definite idea of where the plot (or lack thereof) is heading, but hopefully, I'll manage well enough to please most everyone. This story will be mainly based on the movies, because I cuddle Martin Freeman pillows to sleep and drool over Richard Armitage's face, not to mention fan-girl over Peter Jackson's fantastic directing skills. Plus, to be completely honest (and I don't mean any offense to his fans), I find J.R.R. Tolkien's writing style to be pretty dull and _heterosexual._ Which leads to the next bit of information:**

 **THIS WILL BE A SLASH/YAOI/HOMOSEXUAL FANFIC! Why? Because I love reading about gay fictional dudes kissing. Don't say I didn't warn you!**

 **So please, if you're not comfortable with that, leave now and don't write me some stupid flames about it.**

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 **Hello again to anyone who stayed! Thank you; you are awesome! But now I shall give you yet another reason to scamper off (possibly)...**

 **THIS IS MAINLY A THILBO BAGGENSHIELD STORY! Other pairing might include major Fili/Kili and minor Dwalin/Ori, Bofur/Nori, Balin/Dori, and Bifur/Oin. I'm giving you guys a heads-up because I know that I myself hate getting hooked into a story and then having to leave once I realize it's a fanfic for Smaugbo or Ganbaggins or Dwalbo or whatever other funky couples y'all are shipping these days. (My friend actually ships Gandalf and Beorn together... like, no offense but WTF?)**

 **Anyway, please don't be offended at my choice of possible couples, but if none of these appeal to you, I recommend clicking the back button in...**

 **3... 2... 1...**

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 **You're still here! OMG! Hello to my wonderful readers! I love you all and I hope you continue to the next chapter once it is up! Please gobble up all my virtual treats, because I have a feeling we are definitely gonna get along if you've listened to all my warnings and remained on my story!**

 **Sorry for the long author's note, but just scroll over it next time (and yes, there shall be a next time). Also, sorry for any parts of my story that make you cringe in horror or confusion (I unfortunately have no beta - nor do I have the time or patience to get one - and I only sometimes edit myself).**

 **Hope you like this idea! It's one of the many swimming around in the black void inside my head that middle school teachers are nowadays eating.**

 **Anyways, yeah:**

 **REVIEW | FAVORITE | FOLLOW**

 **All support is appreciated!**

 **Until next time my little Baggenshields :)**

 **\- Jovana out**


	2. Chapter One: All in a Day's Work

**Chapter One: All in a Day's Work**

It was nearly dawn when Bilbo Baggins finally stumbled home into his hobbit hole, collapsing in bed covered in blood and sore to the bone. Despite his exhaustion, the hobbit was rather proud of how well the hard night's work had gone. There were only a few snags and nothing he couldn't handle. Quick and easy, as most of his jobs lately had been. It was dull, to be truthful.

And dissatisfaction doth not a settled hobbit make.

During the mission, Bilbo had concealed himself in the shadows of the dirty tavern until nearly all of the patrons stumbled home to their spouses or passed out from the sleeping herbs slipped into their ale. All but one: there, sitting tense in the corner and sipping beer quietly, sat the hobbit's target of the night. Bilbo, even from his location, had clearly discerned the Man's anxiety - or perhaps fear? - by the way his dark eyes constantly darted around the room.

Bilbo had smirked then; he did so love it when his - for lack of a better term - victims were aware of his coming. It made them all the more entertaining to play with, though his cousins rather disapproved. Drogo never failed to caution him against dragging out the job lest he be caught and risk their whole peaceful demeanor, whilst he cuddled with his fiery lass, Primula Brandybuck.

However, despite what some might have believed, Bilbo Baggins wasn't one to play by the rules.

Approaching Mister William Collins from behind, the hobbit had seductively whispered in his ear, "Hello." Delighting in his target's startled jump, he added, "Mind if I join you?" Collins relaxed on his stool after he sent the halfling a quick cursory look, nodding. He'd seen the little folk around before and had presumed they were of no threat to him.

Big mistake on his part, Bilbo thought when he was back home, snuggling into his soft pillows. A fact he'd forgotten to mention: while he was expecting him, Collins didn't quite recognize our Master Baggins was the one he was specifically interested in.

No one ever did.

The hobbit had plopped himself down across from the moderately handsome but obviously stressed man and given him his best, hobbit-lass-winning smile to get him interested.

And oh, Yavanna, did he get interested! mused Bilbo as he remembered the tall man later pinning him to the creaky bed in one of the pub's rent rooms. Despite delaying his job, Bilbo certainly enjoyed himself whilst the Man rocked against him and flicked his tongue up and down the hobbit's neck.

Too bad it had to end so soon.

You might be wondering what on earth Bilbo was doing in a filthy pub with that repulsive human in the first place. Well, he was doing was he'd been trained to do from the ripe age of fifteen: to exterminate vermin like Collins.

Now, now, don't concern yourself too much! Hobbits are generally amicable creatures, but back before they were completely settled down in their new land by the Blue Mountains (though most hobbits didn't even recall the Wandering Days), they had needed to somehow both defend themselves and keep the income coming too.

So these clever little beings came up with just the solution: training straight from their youths to become secret, highly-skilled hired killers. The halflings were quick on their feet, hard to see, and very underestimated by outsiders; no real assassin could even have all those benefits.

Thankfully, for the rest of the world, hobbits rarely ever venture out of their benevolent, picturesque Shire unless it's for a very profitable job. Even then, mainly the Tooks, the most daredevil but certainly not the most dangerous of clans in Hobbiton, accept those offers. After all, they can't have every hobbit in the Shire with the notion to leave roaming outside of the borders because, like Drogo Baggins said, they might reveal more of the people's secrets than is safe.

One last thing to note: no one is fully aware of these halflings' occupations, not even their most trusted outside friends, though some may suspect. The only reason they've been able to survive so long is because no one feels threatened by them. Instead, most non-hobbits believe there is only a single, wide-working, everlasting being, though they are not sure of which race or gender, who is called the Assassin - ah, yes! Let's not forget the oh-so-creative nickname for our favorite little creatures!

But now that I've answered most of your questions, though I'm certain not all, allow me to return the subject to Mister Baggins' night out:

After his own orgasm but right before he was to be penetrated by his aroused target, Collins, Bilbo discretely slipped out the blade hidden underneath the pillow (he and the inn's owner, a fellow hobbit, had planned out the attack right down to the exact bed). Mister Baggins, to this day, still recalls in wicked delight how Collins' hooded eyes had widened almost immediately once he'd felt the cold metal greet him underneath the belt.

Having enough sense to still his body completely, the man demanded, "Why?"

"Hmm, well, it isn't my place to know why," replied the hobbit. "Let's just say that your old pal, Charley, wanted me to pass on a little message." The man's terrified eyes met his, and that's all they became in that moment. Only a hobbit and his prey, the human.

Then the real fun and screams began.

As per his client's specific request, Collins' throat had been slit as the final would to kill him, and though Bilbo admittedly found the request to be a bit unusual, he didn't dare question it. Like he'd told the man, it wasn't his job to know why.

Afterwards, as he heaved the heavy man's body into a potato sack and over his shoulder, Bilbo had dragged him to the predestined location to collect his well-earned prize. Unfortunately, that's when things hadn't gone as planned, and it was the only snag in our hobbit's mission that night.

Charles Winley had been impatiently waiting there for quite some time because of reasons not respectable to converse of publicly (but which involved Bilbo and Collins). It was an understatement to say that the man was not pleased with Bilbo, and after ordering his men to attack, the scoundrel didn't even stay to fight. Instead, he ran off with the hobbit's money, enraging Master Baggins further! Bilbo wasn't one to let all his hard work go to waste; therefore, he dealt with the situation as was necessary. You truly wouldn't want me to go into the gruesome details, I'm afraid.

Whoever next purchases the warehouse may never be able to get all the red stains out, poor sod, Bilbo mused over coffee the next morning when he woke up, still wearing a pleased smirk.

He whipped himself up a rather plentiful second breakfast (as he'd overslept the first) while he nibbled on a sandwich and pretzels. Bilbo later delighted in the taste of the sweet bread dipped into the yolks of his fried eggs, then he consumed nearly a dozen white sausages, leaving only enough room in his belly for a left-over slice of apple pie from yesterday's supper.

Afterwards, the hobbit sat back his his chair with a loosened belt and pleasant sigh while he read the day's agenda. There were only three things to do that day: report to the Thain about last night's job, teach the fauntlings sword fighting with Drogo, and return Miss Chubb's cookbook.

Deciding to spend a few hours with his favorite cousin first and foremost, Bilbo headed to his room to get dressed in his best leather jerkin and gauntlets.

Master Baggins had initially assumed that day would be uneventful, but you're about to find out just how mistaken the hobbit was. In fact, that day was the prologue of the start of a long and worrisome journey to a distinct lonely mountain.

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 **So... how was it?**

 **Thanks for the wonderful reception of the first chapter, but I'm not sure when I'll next update! This chapter was also supposed to include the sword practice/teaching with Drogo and the meeting with the Thain and Gandalf's intrusion, but I didn't want to torture you guys further. This took very long to write and personally edit! So, at least you'll have something to look forward to in the next chappie (that is, if I get enough feedback, *wink wink, nudge nudge*). And just in case you were wondering, this story (though probably a much better edited version) is also available on . Have a wonderful day, everyone!**

 **REVIEW | FAVORITE | FOLLOW.**

 **UNTIL NEXT TIME.**

 **\- Jo**


	3. Chapter Two: Silent Before the Storm

**CHAPTER TWO: Still Before the Storm**

The loud clang of swords on swords rang throughout the Shire, but no passing hobbit turned to stare as they were all accustomed to the familiar sound by now. Had been for quite some time, in fact.

Bilbo's lame wrist trembled underneath the force of Drogo's sword as he pushed back. Bilbo had broken a bone or two when he had still been an adventurous youth that loved to climb the tallest trees in Hobbiton (though he was never very skilled at it), and the fractures had never fully healed afterwards; it was the hobbit's one physical weakness, as it had been in the past and would also prove to be in the future.

That day had been Drogo's turn to teach the hobbit fauntlings swordfighting, and Bilbo, in a cheery mood at last night's success, had opted to help him out - which he was now beginning to regret. Apparently, he'd not regained nearly enough energy from his earlier doze as he'd assumed.

Their wide-eyed watchers continued to root for them as they stared in undisguised awe. You could hear some of them whispering to one another how they wanted to be just like Uncle Bilbo or Cousin Drogo when they were older.

At this, Bilbo had grit his teeth in determination, pushing with all his might against Drogo's sword one last time before he lunged back. His cousin's blade missed him by only hairlengths. Using Drogo's brief disorentation as an advantage, Bilbo came up behind his cousin's back.

Drogo let out a quiet curse when the sword met his neck from behind, reluctantly raising his hands in submission and defeat. More than half of the fauntlings began to cheer wildly. With a satisfied smirk, Bilbo sheathed his blade, turned to the little ones, and bowed deeply. Unfortunately for him, Drogo saw his chance and took it like any respectable hobbit would, lunging for his thrown sword laying on the ground. The next thing Bilbo knew was the cold steel greeting his throat. His eyes had widened in shock before he rolled them and groaned, despite the warmth and pride surging in his heart.

Drogo declared, "And that, my little masters, is how a true hobbit wins a fight against the nasty outsiders. Using your wit instead of your strength." Addressing his cousin directly, he softly added, "Remember, Bilbo. Never turn your back to the enemy, not unless you're sure they're out of the game. It may just cost you your life one day."

Drogo pulled away and a grin grew upon his face when the fauntlings came running up to them, nearly tackling him to the groung. Bilbo chuckled as he turned to collect his satchel and caught sight of someone lurking around the arena. Excusing himself from the group, he approached the older hobbit waiting for him.

"Uncle," Bilbo cordially greeted. "It's good to see you."

Isengrim Took III, or more commonly referred to as the Thain of the Shire at the time, grinned at his nephew. "Bilbo! I'm relieved to see you're well, too. Especially after last night." Bilbo's smile slid off slightly as his uncle continued, "Faramir Gamwich saw fit to inform me about the... hitch last night and sent a rider with a letter."

Bilbo sighed. "It truly wasn't that big of a deal, Uncle. The men were easily dealt with. Merely a little surprise."

Isengrim seemed to reluctantly accept that, a frown curving his eyebrows. "Still. You can't fault an old, fussy hobbit for worrying about his favorite nephew, now can you?"

Bilbo laughed, inquiring, "So, are there any new tasks for me?"

"No, strangely enough. The men have grown quiet recently, and it's highly unnerving. We're lucky we've even got the few jobs we have now. There's never been this sort of silence since... well, a long time," said the Thain. He seemed to have aged decades in only a matter of minutes. Composing himself, Isengrim reassured his nephew, "But nothing to worry yourself about, Bilbo. You should head home, rest a bit while you still can. I have a feeling this is just the still before the storm... a dark and dangerous one at that. Something that may just change our world."

His eyes were glazed over as he spoke contradictorily, a common symptom of his "senses", a rare gift given by Yavanna herself and a curse at the same time as well. The entire Shire was aware of them - they ranged from crop fertility to the gender of an embryo - and the elders deemed Isengrim a prophet, much to the disbelief of the hobbits.

His uncle had never meant to disconcert Bilbo then, but nonetheless, it happened and it stuck in the hobbit's mind afterwards too.

Because prophet or not, the Thain's senses were never mistaken.

* * *

Bilbo was making a poor attempt at relaxing on the bench outside of his smial after tea time, inhaling from his pipe and releasing different-coloured rings with peculiar shapes. However, as much as the hobbit tried, he could not get his mind of the echoes of his uncle's warning.

 _The still before the storm... Still before the storm..._

 _Change our world..._

 _What in Yavanna could that possibly mean?_ Bilbo wondered, a frown coming on his gently wrinkled face. _Oh, bother, this is just the trouble I needed right now..._

And that's exactly when someone whose hide nor hair had been glimpsed in these parts for many years, decided to come strolling by Bag End, stirring up even more trouble for our poor Master Baggins.

This time, in the form of rude, homeless dwarrows.

* * *

 **The edited version of this is available under the same name at Archive of Our Own. For the link, check out my bio.**


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